


and i will follow you into the dark

by honeyed_dagger (sarartist)



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, also two dumb insecure bois, feelings are confusing lol, ooff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24975490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarartist/pseuds/honeyed_dagger
Summary: the one in which before eiji knows it, he is in love.
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 22
Kudos: 133
Collections: Banana Fish Reverse Big Bang





	and i will follow you into the dark

**Author's Note:**

> hello! here’s my fic for this year’s Banana Fish Reverse Bang. 
> 
> (hey siri, is it normal to project all your dumb insecurities onto fictional characters????)
> 
> this was inspired by some lovely art made by the very talented Owen!! Follow them here: https://twitter.com/Leo_of_Belgium?s=09

  
  


Eiji heaves a sigh as he watches the capricious evening sky, cradling a ceramic coffee mug in his hands. His thumb absentmindedly traces the fading blue of the print on it.  _ The Great Wave.  _ Slightly chipped at the rim, the mug is a wistful reminder of home. As ribbons of cinnamon steam billow around his face, Eiji can almost recall the scent of his effervescent little sister’s countless failed attempts at making  _ the best coffee you will ever have, Nii-san.  _ He can recall it, almost. 

_ Almost.  _

The definition of the word  _ home  _ had altered, expanded and been crushed into smithereens of uncertainty and hopelessness ever since the spring when he came to America. The occasional texts from his sister, the worried but kind eyes of Ibe-san, the friendly owner of the grocery store who loved baseball as much as his father used to. These reminders used to envelop him in a warm embrace of familiarity, but before he knew it, he had started to run away from them. 

He had been riddled with a ravenous guilt that scorched him to bone. Was he selfish for wanting to flee from the gaze of every pair of eyes that had known him before? For feeling frightfully, inexplicably— _ suffocated _ by it? How vain must a bird with a broken wing be, to believe that it can learn to fly again? 

Outside, the serene pink of the sky deliquesces into a saturated orange.  _ Maybe it is okay to allow yourself to change, to stop putting yourself into boxes that other people made for you. To desperately want to have your presence needed by someone else. To choose to stay, or to choose to leave.  _

Maybe home could also be Shorter’s sparkling eyes whenever Eiji mastered new American slang. Maybe it could be Kong’s misty eyes and bone-crushing hug when Eiji baked his favourite blueberry cheesecake on his birthday. It could be Sing’s awkward but sincere thank-you note, left on Eiji’s desk after he had dressed the reckless boy’s wound. It could be, it could be—

_ Ash Lynx.  _

Eiji’s gaze falls upon the forgotten that sits on the windowsill, matching with his own. He watches the black coffee swirl gently; it has long gone cold. And just like that, his mouth curls into an unexpected smile.  _ Anyone who claims to love coffee but can’t have it without insane amounts of milk and sugar like you do is obviously a liar, Eiji.  _

Eiji had feigned annoyance, but since then he had always taken care to remember how Ash Lynx liked his evening coffee—how he always had it while sitting in front of the window with him, watching New York City cloaked in the dying sun. He remembered Ash’s favourite song—the 90’s one that he couldn’t help but hum along to whenever it played on the radio as they drove around the city after dusk.  _ My big brother Griffin—he always used to get up and dance whenever this came on.  _ Eiji had memorised the darkened hue of Ash’s eyes when he pored over dozens and dozens of books in the New York Public Library. The smattering of freckles over his nose and cheekbones that stood in stark contrast against his pale skin when he had been out all day, the name he had given to the stray cat that used to follow him around when he was a schoolboy. How he pattered to the balcony to study the constellations when he couldn’t sleep at night, thinking that Eiji couldn’t hear him. How he always maintained a stoic and rigid countenance when giving them instructions, but always made sure that his gang members had a safe place to sleep in and food on their plates after the day’s work was done. How,  _ how— _

Eiji watches the last remnants of twilight disappear, heart pummeling against his breastbone like a fluttering hummingbird.  _ When?  _ When had he allowed himself to learn by heart every habit of Ash’s, every idiosyncrasy? When had he started dreaming of his crooked grin whenever his eyelids fluttered shut, foolishly fantacising about a day when the two of them could be away from all this? When had he begun to love midnight skies a little more, just because he knew that Ash found solace in the stars? When,  _ when— _

  
  


When had he been foolish and audacious enough to let himself  _ fall _ ? 

Ash Lynx is the man whose name alone can send a thunder of terror running down his enemies’ spines. He is feared, he is revered, and he is despised—a beautiful and elusive snow leopard to one, a ruthless beast to another. His splendour, his intellect, his agility—

After all, Eiji is but quite ordinary himself, isn’t he? Another forgettable face in the crowd, incapacitated after that accident, and incapable of doing the only thing that used to be slightly remarkable about him—pole vaulting. Would they think of him as impudent, to harbour a tiny, tiny desire of also being wanted by the boy for whom he would uproot the moon from the empyrean if he could?

Eiji decides to save this conundrum for another evening when he hears light footsteps advance up the staircase. Usually no one can notice his furtive tread, but Eiji knows that Ash lets himself be a little less cautious when it is just the two of them. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” The cheeky voice greets him. 

“You are late,” Eiji says, obstinately refusing to look away from the window. The sable sky devoid of stars makes his heart sink a little. 

“Looks like somebody missed me,” Ash croons, taking off his denim jacket and sinking into a chair. 

“You wish.” Eiji sticks out his tongue at Ash, and that is when he sees  _ it. _

“Ash.” 

“Hmm?” Ash does not look up from his tablet, large glasses framing his concentrated eyes.  _ Has Eiji ever told him how charming he looks in them? You could almost mistake him for another college student, immersed in the words of Austen and Hemingway—no gun in sight. But— _

_ “Ash.”  _

Ash crosses his arms. “What is it,  _ Eiji _ ?” His tone is almost challenging. 

Eiji walks up to him slowly. “Show me your arm.” His voice is soft, like the heartbeat of a wounded hummingbird.

“It’s nothing,” Ash says, but he extends his left arm anyway. Eiji cradles it carefully, turning over his palm. A long gash snakes across his forearm, a piece of cloth tied clumsily around it in a poor attempt to stop the bleeding. 

“It was a duel,” Ash says nonchalantly, but Eiji does not miss the trace of guilt seeping into the lilt of his voice. “I’m—” 

“No.” Eiji shakes his head. “You don’t have to explain.” 

He wants to hear it. He desperately, irrefutably, selfishly  _ needs  _ to hear it. The maelstrom of emotions swarming his head is imploring him to demand answers. Being left in the dark, even if it is for the sake of his own life, makes him feel harrowingly helpless. But tonight, this is enough. Tonight, Ash letting Eiji take care of him is enough. 

Eiji cleans the wound with caution, fingers delicately grazing Ash’s own. “You don’t have to do this every single day,” Ash whispers, avoiding Eiji’s gaze. 

“Do what?” Eiji asks, eyes still fixed on the cut on Ash’s arm.

“This.  _ Everything.  _ Staying up to wait for me no matter how late I am. Dressing my wounds and shit. You don’t have to. I get new ones everyday anyway.” 

“What do you mean, Ash?” Eiji cannot help the simmering anger slips into his voice. He doesn’t know what infuriates him more—Ash’s impetuous attitude towards or his wellbeing, or his dismissal of the value of what Eiji tried to do to help him. “Maybe it doesn’t matter to you, Ash, but it does to me.” 

“Why?” Ash demands, piercing gaze fixed on Eiji. Eiji wonders if this is how his opponents must feel when facing him—the menacing Ash Lynx.  _ Scared.  _ But no, Eiji could never feel scared of Ash. He fears something else—he fears the  _ truth _ , should it cascade down his tongue when he least means it to. 

Ash’s questioning gaze still has not abandoned Eiji’s, and he fumbles for words. What can he say? That he is selfish, does not want to leave the one place that makes him feel needed? That he is tired of seeing Ash like this, with battered bones and skin bruised black blue, refusing to think twice before putting his life on the line? That maybe, just maybe, he is kind of, sort of, somewhat—falling in love with the boy facing him? 

“It’s because, it’s because I—” Eiji’s heart is in his throat, a wild bird threatening to escape its cage. 

Ash is still waiting patiently for him. Eiji swallows, attempting to muster the courage of mighty seas—although he wonders if even that could possibly suffice. 

“It’s because I am scared of losing you,” Eiji says, in the smallest voice possible. 

There is a pause, and he looks up. Ash’s eyes are downcast. “This is not good for either of us, Eiji. You don’t understand,” he whispers. 

“What do I not understand?” Eiji stands up, clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles turn white. “How can I understand anything, when you refuse to  _ tell _ me?” His eyes are glassy, but he cannot seem to care. 

“It’s because I don’t want to get used to this!” Ash bellows, but there is a quaver in his voice. And he has never raised his voice at Eiji like this, no. It strikes at his chest like a dagger, more agonising than any weapon he may use to incapacitate his enemies. 

Ash’s eyes soften. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. Eiji is sorry too, for more things than he can count. 

“You and me, like this,” Ash says, voice quivering, “I am getting used to it. A little too much.”

“So?” Eiji peers into his verdant eyes. It is his turn to challenge Ash Lynx. 

“So—so this is not okay, Eiji. I shouldn’t get used to this—the things that you do for me.”

“Is that bad?” Eiji’s voice is barely above a whisper.

“No—yes, it’s just. It’s not just what you do for me.” Ash takes in a deep breath. “Your camera in our room, the way you insist on taking photos of this garbage dump of a city at every time of the day. The way you make it all look breathtaking as hell anyway. Ranting about your sister whenever you get the chance—why the fuck do I know the names of all the friends of a girl whom I’ve never met, who lives on the other side of the world? How you eat up every shitty ‘delicacy’ Shorter makes without a complaint—how my entire gang loves you even though you are nothing like them? That stupid cartoon bird you are obsessed with, our fucking  _ matching  _ coffee mugs—” Ash gestures frantically towards the two cups sitting on the windowsill. “I hate it.” He sinks into the sofa, shoulders drooping.  _ “I hate it, Eiji.”  _

Eiji kneels down on the floor, eyes on the same level as Ash’s. His hand finds Ash’s rebellious hair, and he smoothens the wild wisps slowly. “You do?” he asks.

Ash closes his eyes. For a minute, neither of them says a word. After what seems like an aeon, Ash opens his mouth. “Because when you will be gone, I won’t know what to do.”

Eiji’s thumb brushes the darkened freckles on Ash’s cheekbone. “And what if I said that I’m not going anywhere?” 

“But they all do,” Ash murmurs, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. “My mother, Griffin, Blanca—everybody.”

Eiji takes Ash’s hands in his, and their fingers intertwine clumsily together. “What if I told you, that sometimes I feel that no one wants me around? More often than I’d like to admit, really.”

Ash’s eyes widen, his grip on Eiji’s hand tightening. “But that’s not true, Eiji.  _ Everyone  _ wants you here. And I’m being selfish, but—I do too.”

Eiji smiles. “Exactly, Ash. I know. Or at least, I think I do. It’s just—so hard to believe sometimes. That things  _ can  _ go in your favour sometimes. Doubting is so much easier.”

“So…?” Ash drawls.

“So?” Eiji smiles.

Ash knits his brows together, as if deep in thought. “So…in conclusion, we are both dumbasses. Thanks for coming to my T.E.D. Talk,” he says solemnly. 

A laughter bubbles out of Eiji’s throat. “Dumbasses who should trust each other’s words more often, apparently.” 

“Of course I trust you,” Ash says, his forehead against Eiji’s, “since the day you showed me how to fly.”  _ And perhaps, a bird with a broken wing can learn to fly again. It just doesn’t always know it.  _

“You would make a good Bollywood hero, I think,” Eiji says. “Tall, handsome, and really good at using oh-so-cheesy lines.”

Ash grins. “You think I’m handsome?” 

Eiji flushes, sitting down next to him. “I never said that, but whatever helps you sleep at night I guess.” 

Ash hums, putting his head on Eiji’s lap. They stay like that for a while, heartbeats fusing. It strikes Eiji how every such instance with Ash seems like a reunion of its own—waking up to see him gone, praying to every god of Izumo to keep him safe, waiting for him with his black coffee by the window, heart in his throat. 

Ash’s phone buzzes, and he sighs. “I gotta go again,” he says. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“What makes you think that I am ever going to listen to you?”

“Right.” Ash smiles, throwing on a fresh denim jacket.

“Do you really not have anything else to wear?” Eiji asks, helping him into it. 

“Shut up,” Ash says. “Eiji, listen,” he says, almost pouting, “I gotta  _ go _ .”

Eiji smirks. “So?”

“So—kiss me goodbye?”

Eiji does. 

_ Come home soon.  _

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Feel free to yell with me over bfish, mdzs, yoi or kny here:
> 
> https://qulfeeh.tumblr.com  
> https://twitter.com/qulfeeh  
> https://www.instagram.com/qulfeeh/


End file.
